


there's no hand on the reign.

by cl3rks



Category: American Gods (TV), American Gods - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Baked Goods, Car breakdown, Convenience Store, F/M, Mythology - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader has a cat, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Swearing, Thunderstorms, misfortune, potholes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 11:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18249320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl3rks/pseuds/cl3rks
Summary: Down on your luck and ready to lay down and forget existence is a thing, you turn to positively medieval forms of finding good fortune.





	1. the harder the rain;

**Author's Note:**

> i'm really just a slut for hozier, slow burns, AND pablo schreiber, y'all been know!

You were coming home from work when it happened, your eyes tiredly watching the road as your headlights lit the path home. You were almost there, thankfully, but there were heavy rains in the forecast accompanied by thunder and lightning and, unfortunately, wind. The lightning hadn’t cast its fluorescent mast across the sky just yet, but the thunder rolling overhead let you know it was close. 

You were low on gas and you told yourself that if you had to push this car, you’d just roll it into a ditch and walk the rest of the way. However, you never got that far. You were going _well_ over the speed limit to beat the incoming storm and, as your passenger’s side tire connected with a particularly deep pot hole, you knew you had _severely_ fucked up. 

You were making a turn when you hit the pothole, the car’s tires turned and you felt the entire right side of the car jerk in a downward fashion and cursed yourself at the no doubt blown rotational-joint beneath the car, if not the snapped axle that would accompany it. The old crossover you drove jumped a bit and you pulled to the side as best you could, hearing the thunder boom louder as you turned your keys and pulled them from the ignition, heart racing at the possible damage. 

Leaving your car, you went to inspect the right side and your heart dropped at the visible sag your vehicle now had. Maybe if things like this hadn’t been happening all week, you would’ve been able to handle this with a deep breath and a quick call to a towing company. However, things like this _had_ been happening all week. 

Your car being screwed to hell and back happened to be the shitty icing on this proverbial cake.

You took a deep breath, but your exhaustion of the week and your entire work day flooded your veins as you let out a painfully loud scream and began kicking the worn tires, fists balled up at your sides as your foot repeatedly met the black rubber. As you kicked, you heard the crack of lightning overhead and the dark clouds opened, dumping what felt like a Rubbermaid tub of frigid water upon you; well, it’s safe to say your scream was now drowned out.

You put your foot back on the ground, carefully went around to the driver’s side door, opened the car, and got your bag before slamming the door shut while locking your car. You looked up at the sky as you pulled your hood up, the rain soaking in so easily it felt like your bones were drenched. You began the fifteen-minute trudge home – which, granted, would’ve been fine if you hadn’t been splashed by a puddle and your neighbor’s car on the way there.


	2. the sweeter the sun.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythology forums hold more information than vague Google searches, to your surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> [if i get anything wrong, feel free to correct my dumbass]

Your luck had been fuck-all this week and now Google was going to help you change that.

When you got home, after leaving a quick message with your insurance’s towing company that you left your car out in the middle of a storm, you opened your laptop and began a search. 

_“How to relax after a long day,”_ led to a similar search of, _“how to relax after a stressful week,”_ which led to, _“how to prevent stress from eating at you,”_ to, _“how to prevent the universe from eating you alive,”_ all the way to, _“how to change/improve your luck.”_

Well, the first two gave you a few nice articles on Epsom salts, tea leaves, candles, white noise, and essential oil use. The third led to fidgeting activities and exercises, breathing and yoga-esque, to combat personal stress. The fourth told you to kick universe in the face then opened up the doorway to the fifth with similar searches, telling you ‘tricks’ to change your perspective rather than actual tips… that is, until, you scrolled down the article and found the comment section with links to mythology forums.

You had no idea who the fuck _Buile Shuibhne_ was but having to look up a pronunciation for the name made your brain ache as you read the forums thoroughly for tips on how to reach him. It told you that praying to him was just about as simple as any other prayer, if not for the extra pieces about a bit of bread or sweet baked item and the milk that you had to put on the windowsill.

“Is this what my life has come to?” You looked over at your cat, Pepper, who was stretched across your coffee table, kicking her little gray-tortie leg out as she let out a tired sigh. “I’m praying to an old Irish god or king or whatever the fuck he is to help me out… if this doesn’t work, that’s it, guess I’ll just lay down and take it.”

She gave you a quick glance before closing her yellow eyes, ear twitching as you hummed softly, trying to think of what pantry items you had on-hand before you heard an even louder hum and all of a sudden, your entire house went dark, save for your laptop’s bright screen.

“Fuck!”

Then your laptop screen turned blue and you threw it across your couch before it tumbled off the edge, falling onto the ground. You glanced at it, noticing it remained intact despite the force of your throw. You rolled your eyes and went to go find a flashlight, deciding you would lay the bread and milk on the windowsill as soon as you found the modern-torch.


	3. all things come from nothing,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were hoping for immediate results, but you're not sure the guy operates like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not everyone has king's Hawaiian rolls on hand like i do, besides, i need to write about shitty luck :)

In the middle of a stupid thunderstorm, you ended up walking to the corner store to buy a tray of Hawaiian rolls and a small bottle of whole milk, muttering to yourself about whether or not _Buile Shuibhne_ was a fan of either, deciding it would have to do as you paid for the items and left, nearly slipping and cracking your skull open on the outside stoop at a particularly wet spot. Thankfully, you caught yourself on the bannister and went on your way, getting home to unlock and let yourself back into your dark home, telling yourself not to blow up at the fact that your neighbors _clearly_ had power in their homes.

After locking up for the night, you poured the milk into a glass and put it on the windowsill, followed by unwrapping the tray of sweet rolls and setting them there, as well. You knew this likely wouldn’t work, knowing full well that Pepper would be the one drinking the milk, not some ancient Irish god of luck.

“Look, I’m doing this out of sheer desperation – knowing the way things have been going, my own disbelief is going to make this impossible.” You took a deep breath as you clasped your hands together, your eyes closed tightly as you felt a shiver run down your spine at the chilly air in your home. “I am begging you, just help me. It doesn’t have to be anything on a grand scale, nothing like a million dollars in the mailbox, no, just… something. Literally anything.”

It was incredibly dark inside your house, the lack of light engulfing you in an ominous way. No sound came from Pepper nor creatures outside. No hum from the refrigerator, no clicking from the furnace’s pilot, no sound except your shaky breathing; “I’m calling upon you, _Buile Shuibhne,_ to please help me the fuck out.”

At least you can say you tried.


	4. prayers heard,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least he'd heard you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i adore short chapters, hope y'all enjoy these few sentences :)

While you were laying quietly in your bed, fast asleep with blankets piled atop you to combat the frigid air in your dark home, somewhere _else_ in America, a prayer had traveled, and its recipient was listening to your whispers as he pulled himself out of the bar’s sticky booth he was currently occupying.

 _“I am begging you…”_ your voice filtered in and out like static on a radio, certain parts rattling around as echoes in his mind as other parts dropped off, never to be heard again. _“Literally anything.”_

He felt a warmth in his bones he hadn’t felt for ages, a new air was taken into his lungs at the words, _“I’m calling upon you,_ Buile Shuibhne, _to please help me the fuck out.”_

Well, now that’s a name he hadn’t heard in a while.


	5. empty vessel.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were surprised and, well, naturally a bit anxious.

When you awoke, eyes bleary, you looked to Pepper who was meowing at you, paws batting at your chin. You gently pushed her from you and swung your legs out of the bed, taking your phone off the nightstand before you rushed downstairs to get her food. 

You selected a can of wet food off the shelf and, as she nibbled at the dry food in her dish, you smacked the mushy contents onto a little plate and set it beside her. She happily lapped up the wet food, continuing to chew and mewling in-between bites as you changed the water in her dish. Then, after the feeding routine was completed, before you even got what you needed to wake up, you noticed the microwave and stove’s clocks were on and reset, already.

(Usually, after an outage, you would have to reset them yourself.)

You hummed to yourself and took in a deep breath, noticing the air in the house was warmer, but there was a breeze flowing your way. You slowly walked to the window and, to your surprise, the tray of Hawaiian rolls was gone, with the tray compacted neatly within the glass that had been a vessel for the whole milk, though now empty. The window was still open slightly and, sure, that made you a bit anxious, but somebody _had_ taken your offering, god or not, and now your entire house had power again.

You looked to Pepper, eyes curious; “Do you think it’s possible that he reset the clocks, too? But no, that would be silly, right? About as silly as praying to him in the first place, leaving an offering, y’know, borderline whacked-out, right?”

She meowed in response before beginning her hydration-session.

“Fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!


End file.
